A garden in winter. Why look? Let alone go to the trouble of taking a photograph or painting a picture? What is there to see other than the barren and bleak hauntings of what used to be? What is there to feel other than cold, emptiness? Perhaps Gauguin suggests that we look closer. Perhaps he means to say that the garden in winter is not lifeless, but only standing still for now. Perhaps he means to say by way of composition and color that the garden in winter reminds us of the strong bones that hold things together. I think that the two women in their scarves with their baskets know there is something to behold (as well as chores to be done), and that, yes, civilization looms in the background, the smoke stacks of the factories and the pitched roofs of the houses are undeniable, but they do not tamper the spirit of the garden, even snow covered, even in the dead of winter.
I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all three shall strive within me.
~ from “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens Read more
In 1897 when the iconic book The Decoration of Houses by Edith Wharton and Ogden Codman Jr. was published, one critic bemoaned its focus on beauty as a guiding principle. Thankfully many others embraced this approach and understood that the book’s thesis, if you will, had to do with restraint (at a time when that was not in vogue) and as Wharton put it, “the supreme excellence in simplicity.”
Designer Beth Webb is of this school. Read more
This painting by Matisse is one of my favorites at the Baltimore Museum of Art. I could look at it forever with its layers and layers of textures and patterns and light. I love the plain wooden table with the embroidered runner and the lovely pale flowers in the china vase alongside a simple cup and saucer and two lemons. Then, there is the exotic birdcage of parakeets, the shadows on the strips of mix-matched wallpaper, the pulled back curtain, the blue and white screen, and the undressed window offering a glimpse of the world beyond this room. It has been noted that this was Etta Cone’s favorite painting of those that she and her sister Claribel collected. And their own apartment in Baltimore looked something like this—with rooms that pulled you in like a story about the art of living.
On this afternoon we were eating bowls of clam chowder at the old Harborview Hotel, listening to a table of elderly ladies (“Islanders” as they called themselves several times during the conversation) lament the hotel being recently purchased by new owners (why do things have to change? It makes me miserable.). Read more
In Edgartown proper on Martha’s Vineyard it is called “near-black green” and in the South it is commonly referred to as “Charleston green.”
It’s the deep, inky green found on shutters and doors in many historic homes in historic towns, and what I love about it is how it gives a house a classic, clean, slightly formal look with a hint of mystery: is it black? Or is it green? At the moment, I’m on Martha’s Vineyard, but reading about Southern style, so this color that intersects both worlds and is part of each regions vernacular is quite intriguing.
In Charleston the story goes that residents added hints of blue and yellow to a government issued black after the Civil War as an act of independence. And in the New England area, I am told that it has to do with the harsh climate and the Puritan heritage. Neither of these tales can be officially verified, but it doesn’t really matter to me…lovely stories, lovely color.
Happy Hump Day!
What is it about Southern style that so enchants us? It’s beguiling and mysterious (the Spanish moss and the black iron and the shuttered rooms), and many years ago when I returned to Baltimore after some time living in Georgia and South Carolina, part of its spirit stayed with me. Read more
chi·noi·se·rie | noun | the imitation or evocation of Chinese motifs and techniques in Western art, furniture, and architecture, especially in the 18th century.
In a new book about timeless Southern style (more on that soon!) there is chinoiserie everywhere, and I have to admit that I have often confused it with toile. Toile is a pattern that is French and often depicts the French countryside, while chinoiserie means “Chinese-esque” and includes all different kinds of Chinese images which can be found on fabric, wallpaper, furniture, folding screens and so on. I have been calling my foyer wallpaper toile when it is actually chinoiserie—so thank goodness I’ve gotten that straightened out for us (and now to actually pronounce it correctly…).
If you are a little bit afraid of something like this, the pattern above is a removable wallpaper from tempaperdesigns.com.
We have come to think of Labor Day weekend as our last chance at summer—last dip in the pool, last ride on the boat, last burger on the grill, last stroll on the beach, last ice cream cone, and so on. The days will get busier and shorter and chillier, and so we throw ourselves into a long weekend of all things “summer.” And even if it isn’t actually “the end” (for September can be warm and full of outdoor activities), sometimes a symbolic end is just as meaningful, if not more so than the real thing. Read more